


we always tried to share/the tenderest of care/now look what we have put you through

by thespis_hauntings



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Loss of Parent(s), Other, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:16:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespis_hauntings/pseuds/thespis_hauntings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>my god, what have we done to you?</p><p>(the song is precious by depeche mode.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	we always tried to share/the tenderest of care/now look what we have put you through

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [someone's waiting to love you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3241772) by [heavensverdict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensverdict/pseuds/heavensverdict). 



> cordelia canonically dies before her husband also im just gonna pretend henry didnt die because of war in this so ...... enjoy
> 
> i know this switches tenses but thats because its a personal piece and its how i naturally write and i didnt feel like editing it so if its hard to read im really sorry just dont focus on it i guess? it was rushed towards the end im sorry i just have a lot of emotions for cordelia/henry aaaaaaaaah

henry immediately knew when he saw her.

he knew the girl with white hair was his child. she looked too much like cordelia and him to be somebody elses. 

henry waved to the girl and she sneered at him, he dropped his hand and for a second almost his everlasting smile. she had to be his daughter, correct? yes, the only other person who could've produced hair like that was robin, who was already standing with tharja and noire and morgan. her kids were preparing for a fight as their moms discussed attack strategy. 

chrom rubbed his neck like he always did when he got nervous and stuck out his hand in a deal. henry watched her hand shoot out and shake the exalt's, then turned back to cordelia, who was standing on his left and testing the tip of her lance using her finger.

all through the fight he kept his eyes on the girl. she moved fast and bounced when she walked, he giggled when she stabbed monsters because he was so close to her and could literally feel the dark magic flowing through her- cordelia was naturally talented at the same kind of necromantic art as well- but she was wasting her potential by settling for a sword.

"hey!" henry slid up next to her and blasted thunder at a nearby grimleal. "did-" before he could even finish his question she spun around to him and her mouth automatically opened in anger and shock.

"dear naga, it's you." she decapitated a risen. "look, i don't want to hear your sorry excuses, so just drop it, okay?"

cordelia appeared at her husband's side. 

"oh, and you, too?" she gave the most impressive sigh-groan henry had ever heard (including cordelia's deep and sarcastic breathes which he had learned to love) and launched into a small monologue about chrom and somebody named holland.

they waited it out and when she was done, she stalked off into the midst of the battle, not even giving her parents time to reply.

"what's her name?" henry whispered to a soldier near him.

"wha-? uh, i think i heard tactician robin call her severa... sir." the mercenary swallowed and rushed off.

the plegian laughed to himself and returned to the enemy. 

i pray you learn to trust/have faith in both of us/and keep room in your heart for two.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

weeks later, by the campfire, henry and cordelia ask severa about her future-past.

and she tells them.

angels with silver wings/shouldn't know suffering/i wish i could take the pain for you.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

henry walked home slowly on purpose.

he only got to the post office once every few weeks and there was rarely any letters, but cordelia always insisted that he check. after chrom's defeat him and cordelia had moved to a remote corner of plegia, one of the precious swamp circles that had henry wearing tall boots everyday and his little daughter shivering in the cold mud when she went outside. the war had already passed through here and though there was still pockets where grima's poison breath lingered in the form of slime and fog, for the most part it was safe to severa to play.

cordelia was always away in ylisse, back home in the capital, helping the war effort. she was struggling to save something already lost but henry knew if he tried to keep her at home she would break, she needed to be out and to feel useful and henry understood that. she came home when she could and she truly loved severa, more than anything.

her last words to their daughter had been "i'm going off to fight for what's most important."

and then today, henry had received an official notice that his wife had finally been killed.

strong, brave, beautiful cordelia, who had been serving the exalt loyally for decades. henry passed under the dark trees and let the wolves come trotting out behind him, the clouds refused to block out the cold sun and henry felt it was mocking him, that it was gloating. the bright light, so comforting yet deadly said that cordelia wasn't with him anymore, and she never would be again.

the door to the cottage was open and a small candle burned inside, henry stepped in and kicked off his boots. severa smiled when she saw him and jumped up, he greeted her and scooped her up in his arms. she wrapped her pudgy fists in his hair and for a while he laughed with her and spun her around.

at dinner he set the table for two and sat across from her.

"severa, you know what death is, right?"

she looked up from mashing bread into the potatoes and nodded at her dad.

"well... that's what happened to mom."

a silence filled the space between them, so henry swallowed and continued speaking.

"in battle. a few weeks ago. they won't be sending the body, but we got a certificate."

slowly she stood up.

"may i be excused?" her small voice was weaker then ever.

"sure."

precious and fragile things/need special handling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

that night henry sleeps alone and listens to severa's anger and sadness in the other room.

he counts the number of times she slices the wall with the dagger he gave her defense as twenty and the number of times she breaks down sobbing- he doesn't want to think about that.

when the dawn light comes he hasn't moved since last evening and he swears he sees cordelia in the purple and pink sky.

he blinks again and the only response is the sound of severa making her way down the creaky stairs for breakfast.

(shouldn't he already be up, caring for her, comforting her, loving her, supporting her?-

-like a good father? like a mother?)

things get damaged/things get broken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

in cordelia's absence they learned to cope.

henry eventually managed to get up and out of bed. he started taking showers again, he started eating again. years after, he was even able to take the crisp certificate out of its stand and look at the simple, harsh words that basically said she was dead.

hadn't he always loved death?

(did he still?)

one cold day in the spring, on the anniversary of that letter, henry and severa put up a small tombstone for her. severa was now eleven and she wrote out the goodbye letter on the rock, once in classical ylissean and once in the complicated plegian tongue. 

but words left unspoken/left us so brittle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the cliff is very high.

severa was training back at the house and henry sat near the grave, tracing his fingers over the words again and again.

he should do it.

crows circle him, the land at his feet and peck at his shoes. wind rushes up to him and dances through the pine needles of the forest behind. bits of rock tumble into the abyss and today it is raining for the first time in forever.  
he could slip.

it could be an accident.

he once heard a man say if you take enough raven feathers you can fly.

cordelia had been his raven.

he plucks the grass growing at the base of her tombstone.

her feathers.

henry can fly.

it's always more effective if you close your eyes, he's heard.

(the fall feels longer.)

if god has a master plan/that only he understands/i hope it's your eyes he's seeing through.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

when severa finishes recollecting how she found his body, broken and bloody, and then laid it next to cordelia's grave, both of her parents are sitting in shock.

"honey..."

"don't." severa doesn't want to hear any apologies.

"i never meant to leave you."

henry whispers the last line along with his wife and suddenly the family is hugging and crying and maybe even laughing.

there was so little left to give.


End file.
